


they’ll call our crimes a work of art

by lost_n_stereo



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 19:49:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10446078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_n_stereo/pseuds/lost_n_stereo
Summary: Clarke bangs on the headliner next to him, her hair messy and wild from being trapped under a baseball cap all day. A black duffle bag rests at her feet and even though it’s zipped up tight he knows that inside contains the very thing that they need to survive.Money. Lots and lots of fucking money.Two point two million, to be exact. He feels a little like Robin Hood, robbing from the rich to give to the poor. Only in their case, they are the poor.Clarphy Criminals AU





	

There are miles upon miles of sun scorched earth between San Diego and the Texas border. 

He downshifts, the engine purring as he speeds down the deserted highway. Desert passes them on both sides, wide open space as far as the eye can see and he knows with almost complete certainty that they are in the free and clear.

For now, at least.

“Woooo!” 

Clarke bangs on the headliner next to him, her hair messy and wild from being trapped under a baseball cap all day. A black duffle bag rests at her feet and even though it’s zipped up tight he knows that inside contains the very thing that they need to survive. 

Money. Lots and lots of fucking money.

Two point two million, to be exact. He feels a little like Robin Hood, robbing from the rich to give to the poor. Only in their case, they _are_ the poor. 

Well, _he’s_ the poor because Clarke is what she calls “rich adjacent” meaning her family is rich so by association so is she. Ivy League, medical school, scholarships. These are all words that mean less than nothing to him, just a poor kid from the wrong side of San Diego, but to Clarke they meant confinement. Restrictions. 

Basically the opposite of freedom. 

Murphy looks over at her, a wide smile crossing her pretty face as she rests her bare feet on the dashboard of his Trans AM. It’s a piece of shit that his dad left him before he died but it’s fast as hell and got them away from California quicker than the bus. 

It only hurts a little when he remembers that he has to ditch it as soon as they hit Arizona.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Clarke says, popping her gum as she stares out at the passing scenery. “We are bad ass, baby!” 

Murphy laughs, reaches over and rests his hand between her thighs. “You’re damn right we are.” 

Clarke grins and reaches over to turn the radio up, rolls down her window and lets her hand make air waves as The Rolling Stones pump through the speakers. 

_Nothing is ever going to feel this good_ he thinks as they speed down the I-10. He hasn’t seen another car in miles and doesn’t expect they will anytime soon but they are going to have to stop for gas if he stays at this pace. 

“Getting hungry?” 

Clarke nods and turns down the music. “Let’s find a diner. One of those old school ones with the red vinyl seats and a jukebox at every table.” 

“Kind of a tall order,” he chuckles. “But your wish is my command, Princess.” 

If you would have told him a year ago, hell even six months ago, that he’d be pulling a Bonnie and Clyde with the richest girl from his high school he would have either laughed in your face or punched you in the face. 

Probably the latter because he’s always been a bit of a shithead.

When he ran into her at a club downtown four months ago she was downright _fucked_ , knocking back tequila shots with a girl named Raven he remembered from their high school. 

“What’s eating you?” He asked when she literally bumped into him at the bar. 

“No one,” she’d said with a snicker and her hand immediately went to her mouth. “Oh my god, forget I just said that.” 

“Not a fucking chance.” He’d just laughed and wondered if she even remembered him. John Murphy, class asshole. Not much else to remember probably but he remembered her all the same. The way she dated both the jocks and the cheerleaders. The hottest girl in school although she cared more about her studies than clothes and makeup. 

“How have you been, Murphy?” 

To say he had been surprised would be a fucking understatement. In fact he’s pretty sure he actually choked a little on his Jack and Coke. 

“I’ve been fine, Clarke. Yourself?” 

“I got dumped,” she had lamented, her eyes rolling as if recalling whatever fucked up thing ended her relationship. “My girlfriend found herself a new girlfriend so here I am. Getting sloshed because apparently I have zero self control.” 

“Oh, now I don’t know about that,” he’d laughed. “Remember that night in Finn Collins’ basement? We got matched up for seven minutes in heaven and I’m pretty sure you kneed me in the balls when I suggested you give me a little kiss.” 

Clarke snorted so hard her hand shook and tequila came dangerously close to flying out of her shot glass. “If I remember correctly, you tried to stick your tongue down my throat and said ‘Hey baby, you know you want some of this.’” 

“Sounds like me.” 

If he was shocked as hell that she remembered him he was even more surprised when she reached her hand over, ran her pinkie finger up the inside seam of his jeans at his thigh. 

“And what about now?” 

He had licked his lips, let his gaze fall to the way her black dress clung tightly to her curves. “Now? Now I’d prefer if you begged me for it.” 

Needless to say she blew off her friend and ended up back at his dingy apartment, her moans so loud they got the cops called on them. 

Twice.

Thinking back on it now it’s kind of funny that they have been dodging cops since they first started this up. 

“What are you thinking about over there?”

He smiles, tightens one hand on her leg and the other on the wheel. “Just thinking about when we first met.” 

“When we were ten?” 

“No,” he snorts. “I mean when _this_ Murphy met _this_ Clarke. Because face it, sweetheart. You are nothing like you were in high school.” 

Her scowl actually turns him on. How fucked up is that? “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Relax,” he laughs, even though his mother once told him you should absolutely for no reason whatsoever tell a woman to relax or calm down. “I just meant high school Clarke wouldn’t be caught dead with high school me.” 

“That’s not true,” she says, her voice taking on this raspy tone that goes straight to his dick. His heart beats faster when she leans over to rest her lips on the shell of his ear. “High school Clarke thought about you a lot, actually.” 

“Oh yeah?” he croaks out, his throat drying up and he’s so hard for her he wouldn’t be surprised if he pulls over and takes her right here on the highway. “What about when you were with Finn?” 

“Mhm.” She bites at his earlobe, sending shock waves through his body so intense he’s afraid they might crash. 

“Lexa?” 

“Yep.” 

“Bellamy?”

She stiffens and he wants to kick his own ass for bringing _him_ up. “We aren’t going to talk about him, remember.” 

“Sorry, babe,” he says sincerely because he is. Bringing up the guy she almost married straight out of high school wasn’t his brightest idea but fuck if he can think straight when his dick is hard. 

He remembers their breakup their freshman year of college. Everyone though they’d end up together, married at twenty, first kid by twenty two. Mansion in the hills, two point five kids and a Golden Retriever. They were set in stone. 

Until they weren’t.

Murphy didn’t go to college due to the fact that he had zero dollars to his name and did fuck all in high school. Instead he got a job right after graduation, and the fact that he graduated at all was enough to make his entire family proud. Or what little family he has left. He does remember the very public breakup since it happened at the restaurant he moonlighted as a bartender at to make some extra cash.

Bellamy gave Clarke a ring. Clarke said no. Bellamy stormed out.

It was a lot more dramatic than that but you get the gist.

“Can I just ask you one thing?” 

He’s treading carefully because this is a subject they haven’t gotten into yet. She might shut him the fuck down but he’s at least going to try.

“You want to know why I said no.” 

It’s not a question, just a solemn statement and that’s what he loves about this girl. She fucking _knows_ him without him having to say a word.

“Yeah.”

Clarke sighs, her hand still making waves out the window but now he thinks she probably doesn’t even realize that she’s doing it. “My life has been planned for me since I was a little girl. Go to an Ivy League, become a doctor. Marry someone with my pedigree and have the perfect life that my parents have always wanted for me. But I didn’t want that, Murphy. I didn’t want to be some dumb girl that just lived her life the way everyone else wanted her to.” 

He motions to the duffle bag resting on the floorboards. “And that’s going to help, right?” 

“Yes,” she says seriously. “I want to be with you and yes, I’m sure there was another way than stealing millions of dollars from the Blake’s but this is how it had to be. Bellamy’s family is loaded, almost as much as mine. They  
won’t even miss it and you and I can get away. It’s better this way.”

There have been a lot of moments over the last few weeks when he thought that she would either bail or dime him out the first chance she got but damn if she proved him wrong.

The plan was simple, steal some cash from her ex’s family and leave town. The Blake’s are practically San Diego royalty, Bellamy Blake being the eldest son and a future Leader of America. Primed since birth to take over his mother’s real estate empire. Millions of cash sitting in barely locked safes, easy pickings for a criminal like him.  
Clarke came up with the plan since she was still close with Bellamy’s younger sister Octavia. The Blake’s are vacationing in Belize, the house empty over the weekend since they require no staff when the family is out of the country. Clarke knew how to get in without setting off alarms, had the code to the safe hiding in the library and knew exactly how much to steal without anyone noticing for awhile.  
They broke in wearing black clothes and baseball caps, her long blonde hair wrapped up and tucked in just in case any security footage caught them sneaking in and out of the house. The job took less than ten minutes, no alarms went off and they hauled ass to his car that they had parked a few streets down.

All they have to do is dump the Trans AM, no great loss there, in Arizona just in case any neighbors happened to be looking out the window when they drove away with a cool two mil in their car on the way out. He has a buddy in  
Texas that said he’d put them up for awhile until they figured out where they wanted to go.

It was fool proof and it worked like a charm. 

_What could possibly go wrong?_

***

“If I eat anymore, you’re going to have to roll me out of here.” 

Murphy chuckles as he wipes his face with his napkin and throws it down on the table. “There might not be a jukebox on the table but at least you got your vinyl seats.” 

She blows him a kiss before sucking on her milkshake straw and damn he can’t wait to get her in a hotel room tonight.

“Can you order us some extra food to go? I’m gonna go take a leak.” 

Clarke scrunches up her nose in disgust and he smirks, drops a kiss to her temple as he’s passing her on the way to the restroom.

An old plasma television set is bolted in a corner of the kitchen, set to some local news channel, and he doesn’t pay attention to it until he hears a familiar name. 

_“Breaking news out of San Diego, CA. Aurora Blake, real estate mogul, has just filed a police report stating that over 2 million dollars was taken from a safe in her home today. The Blakes are currently on vacation out of the country but have understandably cut their vacation short in order to help police with their investigation. The only known suspects at this time are two individuals that broke into the Blake residence around 8 pm on Saturday night. The suspects were caught on the Blake’s security cameras but because their faces are not shown, it might prove impossible to use these videos to find them.”_

Murphy’s heart drops, his eyes darting across the grainy photograph of him and Clarke sneaking through the Blake mansion, their faces completely hidden by the bills of their baseball caps.

He hurries over to where Clarke is talking to the waitress, drops three twenties on the table before pulling her up by her arm.

“Baby, we gotta go. Now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I am Clarphy trash. 
> 
> There, I admitted it. It's out in the open now and I don't care who knows it.
> 
> But seriously though, this came to me after 4x07 and the insanity of that kitchen scene which basically reminded me of WHY I'm Clarphy trash. I wanted to write this same idea with Bellamy/Clarke as the main couple but I feel like Murphy is better suited as the ultimate bad boy type. Bellamy/Clarke do have a little background in this, and he will be part of the story, but this is ultimately a Clarphy endgame. Now will that endgame be happy or tragic? That's for me to know and you to find out soon!


End file.
